


Quiet in Class, Please.

by vuas



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Breathplay, Choking, Dirty Talk, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Oral Sex, Shoe Humping, Size Difference, Size Kink, handholding bc I’m still soft ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:01:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23856514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vuas/pseuds/vuas
Summary: The new kid leans over and murmurs into her ear—soft enough that Rey’s the only one who hears over the noise of the cafeteria.“Skip next period and meet me in the library. I want to fuck that pretty mouth.”
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 157
Kudos: 1342





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> One day I will figure out how to write literally anything but porn and today is not that day

Rey is in third period on a regular, average Tuesday when her life gets thrown out the window.

She’s taking out her physics textbook and one of her gel pens from a backpack that’s seen better days, when Mr. Akbar announces that they have a new student—there’s a rush of murmurs among their little AP crowd. When Rey lifts her head, she sees a too-tall boy with shaggy hair and dark eyes standing up front, backpack slung over one shoulder.

He’s _twice_ her size. Easily. He’s nearly a head taller than Akbar himself and built with the shoulders of a linebacker. Rey twists in her seat uncomfortably, wondering why her stomach insists on re-enacting a zero gravity flip. His eyes settle on her, for some reason—Rey blushes and quickly averts her gaze.

“You can take a seat next to Rey,” Mr Akbar points in her direction, where the only empty seat is. (Kaydel had gotten Mono—allegedly from making out with Poe—and was doing cyber school to Christmas).

Rey sinks lower in her chair. She can the feel the eyes of every other student on her. It’s a common feeling, but one she’d never get used to—she’s a grade below everyone in this class. Nobody outwardly teased her for it but Rey wasn’t stupid. She was at the very least _othered_ by the group of seniors.

The boy—no, that seemed so strange to say, judging by the thick muscles of his arms— _man_ , took heavy steps until he reached the empty desk. Rey stares at the floor, which had _seemed_ safe at first, but clearly becomes a mistake when she sees the size of his shoes.

_You know what they say_ , Rose had giggled once in gym class while they watched Finn destroy the other team in dodgeball. _Big shoes big_ —

And _that_ is the crucial moment where Rey decides she’s fucked.

* * *

“There’s a new kid in my Physics class,” Rey says to Finn as they shuffle in line to get lunch. Today is grilled cheese and soup, which isn’t terrible. Plus, the ladies behind the counter knew the two of them were on the free-lunch program and always let them steal extra ice cream.

“Yeah? Any good gossip yet?” 

“I don’t think so. He seemed really quiet. You can’t miss him though—he’s like seven feet tall.”

“Wait,” Finn turns to her, a realization dawning over his face. “What was his name?”

“Ben,” she answers. It tastes good to say the syllables out loud. 

“Shit— _that’s_ who Poe was talking about, then! He said we have a new guy for the table.”

“For the...wait, our table? _Our_ lunch table?” She squeaks, feeling her heart begin to pound, and why, she has no idea—she hadn’t even said anything to the kid this morning.

“Yeah, he said their parents were friends or something. So he’ll sit with us. Kinda nice to round out the six seats again, with Kay gone.”

“Yeah,” she says, trying to stop feeling so fluttery. Maybe she shouldn’t have stopped at Dunkin this morning. She needs to cut her caffeine intake.

The thing is—the empty seat at the lunch table is next to Rey.

* * *

Their arms keep brushing.

He’s not built for the approximate five square inches the industrial lunch tables afford each person. No matter how far Rey leans over—the heat of his skin burns against her bare arm. It’s intolerable.

“Do you run track too, Rey?”

His voice is in her godamned ear, his head turned so they’re occupying practically the same space. Rey fights the flush crawling up her neck, swallowing a bite of her grilled cheese and nodding. She tries not to think about how she’s practically sitting in his lap.

“Are you kidding? Rey won the mile at districts last season,” Poe nods at her. “She was in the paper and everything. First time for a sophomore.”

“That’s impressive.” Ben says, taking a sip of his soda. Rey absolutely does not catch his throat working to swallow the liquid. “You must practice a lot.”

“Yeah,” she says, looking anywhere but him. If she makes eye contact, she’ll die. She’s not sure _why_ this is so true, but it is. “Coach Holdo is pretty great.”

“Someone has to work hard to make a good girl out of you.”

He says it in a murmur low enough that nobody else, save for the two of them, can hear it over the echoing din of the lunchroom, filled with nearly 200 other students going about their lives. Rey doesn’t care about a single one of them—her entire being has been snapped to attention by the new kid.

Rey covets this little crumb of praise, taking it with her to study hall, where she asks to use the bathroom pass; all but sprints down the hallway, promptly locks the door and shoves a hand in her jeans. She’s soaked through her underwear, so it’s easy to give into the rock of her hips and just come right there in the stall.

* * *

“Either stop acting weird or tell me what’s going on.”

Rey opens her locker with a flourish. “I’m not acting weird, Poe.”

“You barely said a word during lunch. Is Plutt bothering you again? Do you want to sleep over at my house this weekend? Mom made a chocolate cake for my cousin’s birthday. I’m sure we could pilfer a few slices.”

Poe’s mom _does_ make a good chocolate cake. Apparently the secret ingredient is mayonnaise, of all things. Still—

“It’s not Plutt.”

Poe sighs in relief, leaning against the locker beside hers. “Good, cause I’d give him the old one-two if—“

“Hey, can you guys tell me where the men’s locker room is?”

Rey considers climbing inside of _her_ locker to escape, because she’d recognize that voice anywhere. She and Poe turn to regard Ben, who’s gaze settles right on Rey.

“Rey, don’t you have gym next period? She can take you.”

Oh god—the agony of walking with a titan of pure sex appeal. Had Poe taken out a life insurance policy on her? Surely she was going to die.

“That would be great,” Ben says, eyes darting from her lips to the column of her throat.

“Sure, of course,” Rey hears herself say from very far away, zipping up her backpack.

Poe departs for math and Rey half-heartedly waves goodbye, trying to mentally calculate the possibility that the floor will swallow her up and release her from this misery. She’s about to walk halfway across the building escorting the guy who made her so wet that she was forced to get herself off in a public bathroom.

“Is the gym teacher all right?”

“Uhm—yeah he’s not too bad. We almost always finish early and he pretends not to see if you have your phone in your pocket.”

“So he doesn’t, _ah_ —push you very hard?”

His voice has dropped an octave. Rey feels it in her core.

“Nope,” she breathes, staring at the long stretch of hallway before them. 

“Sometimes you need direction though, right? A heavy hand, maybe.”

Rey looks at him straight on for the first time in awhile. He’s smirking—she should punch him in the jaw. Or kiss him, she’s not sure.

“Do you like it when someone’s strict with you?”

_Fuck fuck fuck_ —

“Sometimes,” she whispers. They’re going to be late—the hallway is empty save for the sound of someone running in sneakers far, far away.

His hand comes up—hot, searing fingertips ghost against her jaw before carefully sliding back, so that his thumb is hooked under her chin and the rest of his fingers can put heavy, gentle pressure on her throat. His fingers span the entire width of her neck.

Rey tries to think of something, anything at all; but her mind is blissfully blank other than the words _holy shit_ ad-nauseam.

He leans down a little—ok, a lot, Rey is still growing, thanks—until his face is directly in front of hers. She feels her knees start trembling when she realizes this is the closest they’ve ever been. Does he know? Does he know that it only took ten strokes for her to cum at the idea of him and his surely massive—

“I wish you would look me in the eyes, Rey. Instead of looking so shy all the time.”

So Rey stares—emboldened by his dare. She looks at his lush eyelashes, his freckles, the stubble he missed on his chin, the way his skin creases at his eyes. Most of all, Rey looks down at his mouth—pink, soft lips that he wets with the tip of his tongue.

The bell rings. 

* * *

“He’s kind of cute, no?”

Rey swallows, sitting on her hands where she’s perched with Rose and Finn on the bleachers. 

“—or is he just tall?” Rose cocks her head, studying Ben Solo like a puzzle—he’s playing a round of basketball below them, his hair slightly damp with sweat, but still somehow bouncing luxuriously with every step. What’s worse; his muscles ripple beneath his skin—of which, there’s so much to observe, with his gym shorts revealing thick thighs. Thick enough to sit on, if one chose.

Rey really hates that Juniors and Seniors have gym together, suddenly.

“I feel like he’s shooting a shampoo commercial in front of us,” Finn grumbles, patting his own short, cropped hair.

“He’s cute,” Rey clears her throat. “He seemed nice, at lunch.”

Rose turns like a hawk, scenting weakness. “Finn mentioned you had a class together—did you talk to him?”

“No,” Rey rolls her eyes. “Nobody talks during physics except for Akbar.”

“That’s too bad,” Rose says with fake nonchalance. “He seems pretty into you.”

Rey snaps her head up to face her friends, who are waiting for her answer with perfectly blank faces. 

“Stop,” she mumbles, blushing. “It’s like 4D chess with you two the moment I mention _like_ - _liking_ someone. Besides, we don’t even know him.”

“Maybe you should get to know him,” Finn wiggles his eyebrows. “With your clothes off.”

The whistle goes off to send them back to the changing room, and Rey doesn’t miss the way Ben runs one hand through his hair, the other skimming the waistband of his shorts, as if he was just on the verge of edging beneath them. Worst of all, his eyes are locked right on her.

* * *

Rey decides to do all the extra credit for her assignments that night, because she’s afraid that being left alone with her thoughts will perhaps wrought more chaos— _that_ of which she has had more than enough of in less than twenty four hours.

Perhaps, of course, it had been an optical illusion—but if she was held at gun point, she _might_ have to admit that she saw what was likely Ben Solo’s dick-print in his basketball shorts today. 

It had looked proportional to say the least.

Rey chews on her pen, trying to get to the bottom of number five on her English homework when her suddenly her tongue flits out, laving over the tip like it was—

Ugh. Ew. Where has her pen been, anyway?

But the other idea—her mouth on Ben Solo’s dick. Now _that_ had legs. Would he smell stronger there? More distilled, masculine? Would he keep a hand on her head, thread fingers through her hair? How would he look when his head tipped back and his chest heaved—how would he taste?

Would he call her Rey? Or just _good girl?_

* * *

“Rey,” Ben whispers. “What page did he say?” 

“Three hundred and two,” she breathes, cheeks pink. She looks at him when she says it.

A smirk slides across his features, eyes dilated. 

Mr. Akbar drones on.

* * *

At lunch, Rey dares to spread her legs a little to the right, so that she can feel the heat radiating off his jeans. Once, twice he bumps her thigh with his own before settling his weight against hers.

It just feels...nice. Like she’s anchored. 

She resumes what she can of her usual upbeat nature—to throw Finn and Rose off her trail—but finds herself stuttering through a story about Dr. Ashoka nearly throwing a book at someone in Government, when Ben reaches under the table and plants a hand on her thigh.

He squeezes, a fingertip ever so gently gliding under the fabric of her skirt, dangerously high. It drives all of her blood south, which she didn’t even know could _happen_ for a girl. She feels her clit throb against the seam of her panties.

Her hips rock, just once, while she lamely finishes up.

While everyone laughs, Ben leans over, mouth beside her ear—again with a murmur, so low and sweet that she’d do anything he asked.

“Skip next period and meet me in the library. I want to fuck that pretty mouth.”

She should smack him. She should turn him into the principal for what he’s doing to her—not a single boy at this school has ever pulled her strings the way he does. 

Instead, she nods, only aware of the fact that his hand nearly covers her entire thigh.

* * *

Rey fakes a headache and Mrs. Holdo sends her off without a second glance, which is one of the perks of being seen as a goody-two shoes for most of your life. Her sneakers squeak on the linoleum floor as she breaks a new record to the library entrance—

She yelps as she’s grabbed around the middle and completely lifted off the ground by a pair of arms immovable as iron shackles. Rey squirms, nearly managing a kick where it hurts the most, but she’s pulled back tight against a warm, solid body.

“Behave, Kenobi, it’s just me—“

Rey gasps, recognizing that deep, dulcet voice as Ben. He’d been waiting around the corner from the stairwell.

“ _Asshole_ ,” she steps deliberately on his toe. “You scared me on purpose.”

“I kinda like you scared,” he counters, squeezing her. “Besides, the library has security cameras. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“Oh, _now_ it matters to you—“

His hand is around her throat in an instant. She can’t describe it as first: getting choked out—it makes her whole body dizzy, it makes her feel vulnerable as hell. The weirdest thing is that she can breathe—his fingers only squeeze on the sides, effectively cutting off the blood flow to her brain, instead of her windpipe. The effect is like a live wire to her cunt.

“Why is it you only listen when you have to be manhandled into it, _hmm_ , sweetheart?”

He sets her down on her feet again and Rey gasps for air, the blood rushing back to her head. She shivers at the sensation—like a trickle up her spine.

“There’s a storage closet down the hall.” He smacks her ass hard enough to make her squeak, squeezing a handful of cheek. “Race you.”

They nearly knock heads trying to reachthe door—eventually they manage to scrabble it open just before Ben sets upon her like a wildfire—there’s hands _everywhere_ while he opens his lips and just _licks_ into her mouth. She’s not a virgin, but _this_? This can’t possibly be what she’s been missing out on; rough passion teetering on violence, flaring over both of them. Rey has never felt so wanted.

His hand sneaks up her shirt to squeeze her breasts hard enough to make her whimper. “Gonna fucking devour these tits, Rey. So fucking cute—“

“Ben,” she moans, sounding pretty needy. 

He pulls back, wiping his mouth where their spit has practically dribbled onto his chin. It should be gross, but instead Rey wants to lick him clean.

“Get on your knees, sweetheart.”

She scrambles to obey, getting down on the hard tile and sitting back on her heels. She wipes her own mouth dry, looking up at him.

He’s taller like this—Rey reaches a hand out to balance herself against his jean-clad thigh. She feels so delectably small.

“Knew you were a little slut,” he mutters, undoing his belt. “Christ, the things I’ve thought about doing to you—“ Rey watches his zipper with a singlehanded concentration usually reserved for derivatives.

His cock springs out, hard and heavy under its own weight. It’s nearly as thick as her wrist.

“Fuck,” she whispers. It’s so much better than the basketball short impression. God is real—and she has been watching over Rey.

“You’re going to suck me off until I come in that pretty little throat, right? You have to—fuck—swallow, okay?”

Rey nods, entranced by the tip, where he’s leaking pearled drops of pre-come. One slips over the edge, streaking a line down his length before dripping to the floor.

Rey leans forward and licks the flat of her tongue up to taste him. 

Immediately Ben whacks his head against the door, hands reaching out—he grabs a fistful of her hair, which normally Rey would break someone’s finger for, but she kind of likes being held like this. Like she can’t get away. Like all there is to her universe is Ben Solo’s dick.

“You taste good,” she murmurs, doing it again, feeling her mouth water. “Thought about sucking you off last night.”

“Fuck—show me.”

Rey smiles at him before opening her mouth and easing the entire head in as far as she comfortably can on the first try—most of his skin is still dry, but when Rey gags herself a little, she eases the friction with her spit and slides a notch deeper.

Rey looks up at him, feeling warm liquid drip down her chin. He looks entranced. 

Ben is _toast_.

His cock suddenly jerks to draw her attention, tightening up a bit, as if trying to get harder than he already is. Rey takes that as her cue to fuck him with her mouth—it’s odd at first, and her jaw is already edging on its way to soreness, but somehow feeling the tip hit the back of her tongue— _tasting_ each time more pre-come leaks out of him—feels good. She feels useful and wanted and in control of him finally; making Ben feel the way he’s been driving her nuts.

Ben is gasping for air as she works him—Rey loves the way his chest heaves, the fabric of his shirt stretching across his pectoral muscles. 

One of his feet slide forward, settling between her thighs. At first Rey naturally moves to avoid it until she catches his eyes again. The lust painted across his expression—the pink of his ears, the way he’s biting his lip, muscles straining—

“Good girls get to grind their pussy on my boot while they suck cock,” he growls. “Go on—show me how messy you are.”

Rey whines, muffled by the obvious: pure desire is electrifying her skin. To be his _good girl_ —to be reduced to this, humping his shoe, like she’s desperate for anything he’ll give. She hooks one hand on the back of his knee, the other—

Ben catches and weaves his fingers between her own, squeezing with a gentleness she was unaware the big oaf was capable of.

Rey moans around his length when her clit meets the leather: humping his leg and leaving a veritable puddle of evidence. Would he smell it tomorrow, her pussy on his clothes, and think of her on her knees? Crying with a cock between her lips?

Suddenly his hips find the will to move urgently—his cock fills her throat up enough that Rey can’t breathe: she panics and slams a fist into his thigh, but he just growls, low and dangerous. Instead, the hand on the back of her head presses her _further_ into the stretch, and Rey feels his cock push forward into her gag reflex.

“Breathe, Rey. You can. Trust me—fucking hell, this mouth—“

Rey feels tears leak out of her eyes—Ben’s cock won’t let up and she feels like she’s caught in a perpetual choke. She clings to his words, trying to concentrate.

Eventually she remembers to suck in air through her nose, lungs burning with relief. Rey feels the panic slowly retreat as she simply breathes around his cock.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “Swallow. I want to feel it.”

Her mouth quivers—he seems too in control to come, so this surprises her, but she does it anyway, working her throat over the where the tip of his sits inside her. She can feel where it’s going to bruise, her body unused to being violated like this.

Ben groans loudly, hips stuttering. “Feels so fucking good, Rey. Knew you were ready to take the whole thing— look at you. My messy, drooling slut.”

He slides out and Rey launches into a coughing fit, doubling over. He gives her a second to catch her breath before tugging at her scalp again, pulling her back up on her knees. 

“Get yourself off,” he groans. “Put your hands up that little skirt and stick your tongue out.”

His hand wraps around his dick with practiced ease, inches from her face. Rey moves, struggling to comply, but eventually finds enough balance to stop herself from falling over. She feels her face scrunch up when her fingers _finally_ find her clit, moving in quick, tight circles to give her body relief. Her underwear has been ruined since lunch, but now? They’ll probably need to be burned—slick is leaking down her thighs just from sucking cock.

The room is filled only with the sounds of the wet slap of skin—Rey finds her peak first, arching her back with a cry, rocking her hips into her hand, shuddering as her orgasm rolls from her cunt to her toes.

“Knew you’d look so cute when you came, baby— open your mouth.”

She shivers, doing just that and sticking out her tongue: Ben pumps into her mouth with a guttural sound erupting from his throat. Rey feels it when sticky ropes of come paint her her throat, salty and sharp. 

Ben moans, dropping his cock and letting it slide out of her mouth, using his newly freed hand to push a fraction of his thumb between her closed lips. Rey looks up at him, maintaining eye contact as she licks his skin just before swallowing the mouthful he’d given her.

Ben’s eyes are so wide she’s afraid he might be having a heart attack.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Rey rasps, attempting to locate her knowledge of the English language. “You—I—“

Ben slides down to the floor, looking equally bewildered. He reaches out, calmly collecting her limbs and pulling her into his lap, nuzzling at her face while they both try valiantly not to wheeze like they’ve just ran a marathon.

“That was uh—“ Ben swallows. “Pretty—good. Probably the hottest thing ever, if I’m being honest.”

“Yeah,” she nods, feeling numb. “I liked it. I liked it a lot.”

“Can we—do that again? Possibly?”

“Yep,” Rey answers, voice hoarse. “Many times, I was thinking.”

There’s a long pause before both of them come to their senses and stand back up, fixing each others clothes. Ben brushes a few tangles out of her hair, observing her intently. Finally they have no choice but to turn towards the door, however—Ben catches her wrist, looking earnest.

“Rey, will you go to prom with me?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone bullied me into writing the prom chapter. I take ZERO responsibility for my actions as ALWAYS

After he asks Rey to prom, Ben keeps asking her questions like it’s his favorite pastime. 

_What’s your favorite color,_ he asks driving her home the afternoon of the Supply Closet Incident. _Do you prefer waffles or pancakes,_ on a lazy weekend afternoon eating street tacos at the park. _If you could live anywhere, where would you go,_ while she’s sitting on his lap on the top row of bleachers during a football game. 

_ Do you know what you do to me? Do you know what ends I’d go to for you? Do you really like me? _

“Are you gonna come?” 

It’s crooned sweetly into her ear where he has her bent over his bed, puffing into the sheets.

“Yeah—‘m close, Ben.”

There had been a snap of tension earlier: Rey had come out of the bathroom in her fancy, pastel pink prom dress feeling like a princess, and by contrast the _look_ that Ben had given her made her feel like a minx. 

They had made it approximately fifteen minutes of stilted small talk before abandoning all pretenses and making out. And now?

She moans loudly, toes curling into the carpet, thighs trembling. She’s almost there: the slip of of own slick easing the way for him to rub gentle circles against her clit. She bites her tongue; his weight is settled on top of her, overwhelming and everywhere, no part of her untouched by him.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she hisses—it slips out of her because he’s doing it just the right way, speeding up to coax her along to the edge. He huffs into her neck and squeezes her, something along the lines of a laugh coming from his chest. Rey buries her face into the body-warmed sheets despite the agonizing heat, closing her eyes and trying to concentrate.

Something out in the hallway creeks.

They both go deadly still—Rey gulps air as they both turn towards the door, listening for their worst fear—had Han and Leia come back early? Perhaps it was just the Solo house settling; it was an older building, in his family for generations, prone to the odd noise at night. The hair on the back of her neck rises as they breathe in tandem, straining to listen for the slightest sound.

Rey clears her throat after a few seconds have passed with nothing to show for it—Ben’s fingers have gone completely still, but they’re pressed firmly against her clit and the resulting pressure is driving her mad. If she could move beneath him, she might be able to eek out some pleasure—but they really shouldn’t be doing this in the first place—he’s going to wrinkle her dress, she’s going to mess up his hair, stain his suit, unknot his tie.

He’s going to make a mess of her.

“They said they’d be an hour,” Rey says finally, shifting beneath him, sounding a lot breathier than she intends. “Do you think...” her voice trails off, unsure.

He frowns, letting her roll onto her back beneath the cage of his body—he’s still listening like a bloodhound, eyes focused intently on his bedroom door.

“No,” he answers slowly, sounding less than confident. “We would’ve heard the garage door.” He turns back, eyes focusing on her, skimming the contours of her face with a smile: she wonders faintly how she looks, half-sexed with her hair fanned out on his pillow. 

He bites his lip, expression turning worried. “Right?”

They’ve been caught by accident before—the first time in the backyard pool with her top off on a humid August night. Leia had walked out onto the porch with a contraband cigarette and yelped before running back inside: Rey had gotten an embarrassing lecture about birth control from the state senator, dripping chlorine water on an expensive living room couch where she was jailed with Ben in shame. 

Then there was also the time they were in Ben’s car in the driveway; Han had turned the corner with a flashlight he used on Chewie’s evening walks, and all three of them had screamed when the beam found them in the front seat. No lecture that time—somehow it was _worse_ to sit in awkward, stilted conversation during the next Seder she had been invited to. It didn’t help that Ben had a black eye from where she’d accidentally elbowed him in the face in her efforts to scramble off his lap.

(There’s also the unspeakable Movie Night Tragedy, Rey shudders to remember. International treaties govern that all parties are better off not mentioning it at all.)

Needless to say they’ve become very invested in the concept of discretion.

“Fine,” he mutters, settling his weight between her hips and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “False alarm.”

Rey raises a hand to bury in his thick hair, grinning at him. “Better get back to work then, Solo.” She tugs at a fistful, pushing him down between her thighs where she wants him.

He smirks back, hands bunching up the hem of her dress—Rose will have a fit about the creases, but Rey can’t bring herself to care when his warm fingertips press on the inside of the thigh, spreading her open so her cunt is exposed to the air. Rey sighs and settles back on the pillows, ready to finally have his practiced tongue bring her to orgasm.

He hums, placing small kisses in familiar places, murmuring about _how pretty her pussy looks, all wet and pink and just for him_ —she giggles, but it’s quickly cut off by a broad stroke of his tongue, warm and gentle against her clit. Rey gasps, clenching up and throwing an arm up against her collarbone; she almost wants to ask him to hold her down at the throat, but it’s a bit of a reach with him kneeling on the floor.

But it’s fine, because when his soft lips close around her clit and suck, Rey gasps and tenses up every muscle in her body, suddenly trembling like he’s poured fireworks into her veins; her hand clenches at her neck, trying to get purchase on something. Ben works rhythmically, and Rey gasps turn higher and higher, tugging tight at his hair, making him groan against her skin. 

“Ben,” she whines. “Ben—please.”

He lifts his head, sucking in air, his mouth shiny with her own essence; his eyes have lost the familiar warm brown in favor of deep black, enough to get lost in. “Rey,” he murmurs, sickly sweet, “if you come, that means it’ll be over.” He presses another open mouthed kiss against her thigh, licking her tender skin. “And I don’t want to stop. Wanna keep you like this forever, baby.”

His hand slides from her thigh to crest just over her cunt, stroking maddeningly slow up the slit, before watching her as he pushes in two thick fingers, stretching her open and coating himself in her slick. Rey has no choice but to whine when he curls his fingers up, finding that spot she can never reach on her own— her spine arches clear off the bed and she’s so wet that for a terrifying moment she worries the seat of her dress will be ruined.

He shuffles up a bit, slowly fucking her with his fingers for just a few strokes. She whimpers at the loss when he pulls out—and blushes when she sees her own juices reflecting in the afternoon sunlight on his skin.

“Suck it clean, Rey.” 

It’s an order she’s all too happy to please him with: she sits up on her elbows and licks the pad of his fingers, refusing to look away from his eyes— watching each ruinous micro-expression cross his face.

Eventually she tastes just his skin again, deftly flicking her tongue over his knuckles with eager precision, hiding a satisfied smile. He rolls his eyes, shifting forward so her ankles are back towards her head and all but _shoves_ his fingers in her mouth—Rey coughs and squirms but he hardly lets up, simply pressing down enough to trigger her gag reflex.

“You should practice this more,” he smiles at her, his free hand petting her calf as spit runs down her chin. “Don’t you want to be my good little slut?”

Rey’s eyes flutter and shamefacedly, she nods. She does—wants to be perfect for him, hear him call her _his_. Wants to please him to her core, and then be rewarded for it.

“I feel teeth, I stop,” he warns, just before ducking his head beneath her skirt and licking a solid stripe of wet and heat—Rey groans, body trembling again—gagged like this, mouth split open, there’s no way to contain all the desperate noises she’s making. And she doesn’t—a high-pitched wailing sob as he finds her clit, pressing her up and _up_ towards—

A door slams downstairs, two voices talking much louder than they need to. Her and Ben spring apart in panic and Rey tries not to scream as her orgasm fades away.

“Can’t believe we missed all that traffic and _we’re home already_!” Han all but bellows up the staircase—she can imagine him at the bottom with his hands cupped around his mouth for emphasis. “Now we can take you guys for photos early!”

“Great!” They yell back in unison, though their voices are wrecked beyond recognition.

Rey swears she hears Leia giggle.

* * *

Rose had come prepared with a steamer to Poe’s house, muttering something about Rey and Ben being predictable under her breath while she evened out the wrinkles for their group photos. That was hours ago—now she’s in the local country-club ballroom the school’s rented out for prom: it’s actually quite nice, more so surprising that they trust two hundred or so teenagers not to burn down the building when left alone to their own devices, the glittering thrill of end-year in the air.

Rey drinks a Shirley Temple (spiked a-la cheap vodka smuggled in a flask from some poor parent’s liquor cabinet) and tries not the blush when she glances over and sees that Ben’s already changed the lock-screen of his phone to a photo of her. It’s one from just hours ago, grinning at the camera in the Dameron’s garden with all her teeth, the sunset bringing out the coppery tones of her hair.

If she had told herself six months ago she’d be curled up under Ben’s arm in a prom dress—

“Do you want to go for a walk?”

He murmurs in her ear, lips grazing her skin—he was handsome any which way, but Rey feels a little thrill shoot up her spine each time she’s blessed with the view of him in a suit, his hair combed just enough so that his ears stuck out a little.

“Sure,” she answers: her feet are admittedly sore in her heels from the two hours she spent twirling around the dance floor with rose, but walking into the little courtyard for fresh air sounded nice.

Ben gives her his suit jacket as they slip into the courtyard, past Coach Rex who regards them with only a raised eyebrow (there had been what _could_ be labeled as a near miss underneath the bleachers last fall—though she’s pretty sure Rex knew exactly what they were doing).

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers as Ben tugs her along—the moon is bright enough to flood the patio with a silvery, luminous glow, especially the fountain in the center that burbled with delight. It was enclosed on all four sides by a row of pillars, benches secluded by low, potted trees and bushes every few feet. Even at night she could tell how green and well-cared for this little space was.

His hand finds the small of her back as he tucks her into his side and kisses the top of her head—probably got a mouthful of hairspray for his trouble, but Rey preens at the touch.

“Mhmm,” he answers, giving her a quick squeeze. He smiles down with an expression that’s only ever for her.

Rey looks down at the hand on her waist—it’s making her a little dizzy to see the size of his fingers. And to be fair, she’s been running at a low, but steady level of sexual tension since they were back at Ben’s house. Perhaps—

Perhaps they could remedy that.

They’re in the back corner now, the sounds of the ballroom fading away until it’s a distant thrum. It’s only the click of their heels, drawing them into a dark alcove, even the bubbling fountain sounding far off.

“You know,” she says airily, fingertips skimming his abdomen where his pants are belted—he’s warm underneath the white shirt. “You still kinda owe me. From when we were interrupted earlier.”

Ben raises an eyebrow, his face half-cast in shadow. “You want to do that here?” He glances towards the doors, though they remain shut to any observers.

Rey is in heels, so it’s far easier to lean up and throw her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his jaw. “I’ll be quiet,” she urges. “Ben—seeing you like this, all dressed up; it’s too much. So polished,” she scratches her fingernails down his chest, wondering how it felt through his dress shirt. “I want to mess you up, is all.”

He muffles a groan into her shoulder, sliding his hands to squeeze her ass. “Rey Kenobi, you’ve _never_ come quietly in your life.”

Rey presses further, letting him slide a thigh between her own, and when she grinds down and whimpers sweetly, Ben goes so tense she’s afraid he’ll snap in two.

“ _Please_ , Ben. I want you to make me come so good. And,” she tugs at his tie, “Maybe you could help me be quiet.”

Ben swears, and in an instant she’s spun around and pinned against the wall by his weight—Rey hides her gleeful expression as he moves to undo the knot, whipping his tie off before sliding a hand into the base of her hair and tugging her into an arch that makes her gasp. 

“Can’t wait, huh?” He prods, sliding the fabric into her mouth and tying it behind her head. “My little slut is always so desperate to come, hmm? Don’t mind getting fucked here, now, because you just want me to touch you?”

Her eyes roll back—he’s making an attempt to be quiet, so he’s lowered his voice to a husky growl and it’s hitting all the right places. She hears his zipper come undone, and then a hiss accompanying the sound of skin on skin.

Rey whimpers, feeling him hike her dress up, exposing her legs and ass to the cool evening air; it only makes him seem warmer when he squeezes one cheek before spreading them enough to—

She squeaks, when his cock slides through her cunt and bumps her clit.

“Soaked yourself, baby—you’re dripping. Gonna ruin this pretty dress.”

Normally this position: both of them standing, doesn’t work. She’s not at the right height unless Ben practically squatted—but now she’s in heels and oh _fuck_ , she should have bought them before—all of her is tender and sensitive from hours of feeling vaguely unsatisfied and now—Ben is just sliding into her, filling her up, splitting her open until she’s gasping, pinned to the wall.

He grunts, settling his cock to fit inside her as deep as he can, huffing into her neck where he’s bent over her, pressed together at all the seams.

Rey mumbles into the gag. She’s not sure what—begging perhaps. For him to move, to fuck her, to finally give her her due. He seems to pick up on her unintelligible sob, his hips grinding up until she’s impaled, giving her all of him. She can feel it in her throat.

“Gotta take it, ok? We have to be quick.”

Rey whimpers and nods, and apparently that’s all he needs.

The gag is rather ineffective—Rey is very, very aware that each thrust is knocking the air out of her lungs, little noises working out from between her lips: half gasps and cries and all sorts of muffled moans. But it’s too much: his cock without preamble, forcing out little bursts of pleasure from inside of her cunt.

“Ben—I need to—“ and she begs, hopes he understands through the fabric stuffed in-between her teeth.

”It’s okay, baby,” he replies hoarsely. “You can come, sweet thing.”

Ben bites her shoulder, with an admonishing _hush_ , and reaching down to thumb at her clit—hypersensitive and swollen already, it only takes a few strokes for her to sob, her entire body trembling with the sweet relief of finally, _finally_ coming.

She spits out his tie, keening. “Ben,” she mumbles, eyes fluttering as he keeps pumping into her with abandon. “Ben—so good—perfect. _Please_ come in me, please, I want to feel it—want everyone to know I’m yours.”

He half-laughs. Ok, sure—they’ve made out enough that it’s obvious to anyone with a pulse they belong to each other. But Rey can’t think, can’t breathe unless Ben fills her up, sticky sweet and claims her for his own.

“Rey,” he groans into her shoulder, squeezing her tight. “I love you, baby— _fuck_.”

She blushes as he comes—it’s still new, this thing they’ve been experimenting with saying out loud, despite ringing so true. The words are rough, unpracticed in their mouths, even though it’s been two months since he first told her. It’s easier to say it in the moment like this, caught up in this wild tangle they seem to make of each other.

Ben slides out slowly, gentle hands on her hips as he eases her off—Rey can feel his spend drip out of her, quickly cooling. It makes her drowsy—post-coital and fucked throughly, the undeniable evidence on her thighs. Ben picks up his jacket where it ended up on the ground, pulling a napkin from the pocket and wiping her mostly clean—enough that it won’t soak through the gauzy skirt he settles back down over her legs.

She turns back, putting on her best scowl, more to tease than anything else. Rey points to the napkin he tosses into a nearby trashcan. “Did you plan this? Is that why you wanted to—what was it, oh, _take a walk_?”

He shrugs, helping her back into the warmth of his jacket, tipping her head up to kiss the tip of her nose. “Sweetheart,” he answers with a mocking-sort of placating tone. “I’m prepared. I just know all your tricks by now.”

“Not yet,” she insists, lacing her smaller fingers in his as they walk back to the doors that lead to the main hall—she leans on him, her legs still coltish and a little unsteady. “The night is still young,” she winks up at him.

In the moonlight, Ben reaches up to fix her hair—it’s so achingly sweet, being the object of his gentle affections. He’s so concentrated on making her presentable again that she worries he might miss the way she’s mooning over him.

“Ben,” she whispers, “I love you too.”

* * *

Finn and Rose don’t dare to breathe until they’re absolutely sure the other couple had left the courtyard. They’d been looking for some privacy behind a thick row of foliage until Ben and Rey had swept in and—

“How do you unhear something?” Finn groans, miserably flopping onto the grass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> on god I am NOT writing the graduation follow up 🥴

**Author's Note:**

> Y’all: please update any WIP I’m begging
> 
> Me: y’all hear sum
> 
> @TheVuasLog on twitter


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